


Facets of Fitzsimmons

by valantha



Series: Fun with drabbles [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: 100 Drabble Challenge, Academy Era, All the Episode Tags, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e06 FZZT, Episode: s01e07 The Hub, Episode: s01e13 T.R.A.C.K.S., Episode: s01e22 Beginning of the End, F/M, Fitz recovery angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Sci-Ops Era, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 10,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valantha/pseuds/valantha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met at The Academy, worked together at Sci-Ops, and unitedly adventured into mystery (even though they regretted it sometimes).</p><p>100 one hundred word drabbles focused on Fitzsimmons: from their first meeting and their time at The Academy and Sci-Ops, to their time on the Bus and Fitz' recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings, Middles, Ends

**Beginnings**

“Fitz,” the scrawny boy announced with a raised (stained) hand, his other clutched fiercely about a plastic cup.

“Jemma, erm, Simmons,” the zitty girl responded with a dip of the head, her hands tucked into her blazer, two bony wrists protruding from lacy pockets.

They were the anomalies in this crowd of accomplished twenty-something PhDs and thus aggregated together by default. It was lonely – hard – being the odd ** _est_ ** ducks in a flock of odd ducks.

An awkward introduction tucked into the corner of Sci-Tech’s quarterly meet-and-greet wasn’t the most illustrious beginning to the renowned duo Fitzsimmons, but it was accurate.

* * *

**Middles**

They were in the middle of an argument about the night-night gun, or rather the bullets, when…

**Thud**

“Fitzsimmons?” the Operations Agent asked, irritated.

“Fitz,” Jemma replied with a welcoming smile, pointing at her best friend.

“Simmons,” Fitz added, continuing the well-rehearsed introductions, “I’m engineering. She’s biochem.”

Simmons rolled her eyes at his habitual slight grimace at the ‘squishy’ science.

“Coulson said I needed my comm receiver encoded?” the suit-wearing Agent queried.

Fitz grabbed the antique model…

“…I don’t know if you’ve worked with that model before, it’s…”

…and reduced it to spare parts.

“…brand-new.”

Simmons approached with a Q-tip.

* * *

**Ends**

“Ward, just turn around! Don’t do it! Don’t do it, Ward! Okay, you don’t have to do this!” Fitz pleaded.

Ward continued tapping out the ejection protocol.

“Ward!” Simmons interjected.

“You don’t have to! You have a choice! Ward! Ward, look at me! I know that you care about us, Ward!”

“You’re right. I do,” Ward murmured before releasing the emergency medical pod.

Fitz couldn’t believe his eyes.

Falling.

Tumbling.

Simmons couldn’t catch a breath. She was falling. Again.

This time Ward was the perpetrator not the savior.

Plummeting.

**Splash**

Plunging.

Sinking.

Fitz and Simmons were going to drown. Together.


	2. Insides and Outsides

**Insides**

Enzymes, metabolites, and nucleic acids.

Drones, beacons, and bullets.

Cytoplasm, ribosomes, and the nucleus.

Printed circuit boards, processors, and propellants.

Epithelium layers, muscle tissue, and erythrocytes.

Diodes, capacitors, and transistors.

Lungs, hearts, and brains.

Semiconductors, dopants, and electrons.

Emergence: Complexity arising from a multiplicity of simple parts.

Reduction: Examining the parts that make up a complex system.

Beautiful and wonderful even when goopy and gross.

Understandable and predictable even when complicated.

Top-down and bottom-up.

Learning and building. Discovering and designing.

Comprehend. Fabricate.

Ascertain. Synthesize.

Epigenetics make the man, and the circuits make the machine.

Together they make the modern world.

* * *

  **Outsides**

Shiny and stiff.

Squishy and moist.

Clanging and humming.

Stinking and reeking.

Bits and bobs.

Goop and ooze.

Complex yet inelegant.

Incomprehensible yet gross.

_Engineering._

_Biology_

Fitz makes the machines and Simmons studies the men.

From the outside, separate they are singular.

Fitz and Simmons.

From the outside, together they are incomparable.

Fitzsimmons.

From outside, they are complicated and indivisible.

From outside, they are wonderful and involved.

From outside, they speak a language all their own.

From outside, their synchronicity was inconceivable.

From outside, they **are** an emergent property.

Fitzsimmons.

Their whole is greater than the sum of their parts.


	3. Red, Orange, Yellow

**Red**

620 to 740 nm

Red is the color of blood, or more specifically, the absorbance minima for oxyhaemoglobin, and thus the color of life.  Haemoglobin is the iron-containing protein that carries oxygen from the lungs to the rest of the body in all vertebrates. It is exquisitely fine-tuned to allow for the release of oxygen in acidic muscle tissue, absorb more oxygen at high altitudes, and transfer oxygen across the placenta to developing babies. Without such an amazing evolutionary adaptation, large animals who can run and jump and hike Mount Everest and bear live young would be impossible to imagine.

* * *

**Orange**

590 to 620 nm

Orange is the color of visibility, warning, and caution. Life jackets, traffic cones, and ‘Do Not Tamper’ signs are orange. Biohazard signs must be orange. The strong contrast between orange and the sky makes it the color for high-visibility clothing and safety equipment. The incredibly skilled and talented crewmembers of the International Space Station wear bright orange flight suits. Most outdoor extension cords are orange – for safety - and twist-on wire connectors are too. Many arsenic-, chromium-, iron-, and cadmium- containing minerals like orpiment and crocoite are orange, and they were once used to make (toxic) paints.

* * *

**Yellow**

570 to 590 nm

Yellow is the color of the sun, the star at the center of the solar system. It is the Earth’s primary source of energy, and it generates that energy by the fusion of hydrogen into helium via a complex method of chain reactions generating positrons, neutrinos, and energy in the form of gamma rays. The sun is a near-perfect sphere of ever-moving plasma generating twisted magnetic fields. These twisted magnetic fields cause the sun’s 11-year cycle, solar flares, sunspots, and beautiful auroras. Without the sun’s light and heat the Earth would be a frozen, barren rock.


	4. Green, Blue, Purple

**Green**

500 to 570 nm

Green is the color of leaves, grass, and growing things. They are green because chlorophyll _a_ absorbs mostly red light and chlorophyll _b_ absorbs blue light leaving only green light to be reflected. When a chlorophyll pigment absorbs a photon, it loses an electron, which gets passed through an electron transport chain. This creates a gradient, which is harnessed to make ATP and NADPH. A simply amazing enzyme called RuBisCO takes these energy molecules and CO 2 to make sugar, and everything we eat! Also, water is split into oxygen in order to replace the chlorophyll’s electron.

* * *

**Blue**

450 to 500 nm

Blue is the color of the sky and the sea. Why is the sky blue? Why, because of Rayleigh scattering! Blue light is scattered more than yellow or red, so as the sunlight comes through the atmosphere, the yellow wavelengths beat straight down and the blue wavelengths get scattered by the molecules in the air making the sky a diffuse blue. The sea is blue for the same reason. Red light gets absorbed in the first 4 meters of seawater but blue light scatters about until the end of the photic zone at around 200 meters.

* * *

**Purple**

380 to 450 nm

Purple is the color of royalty. This is because purple dye is incredibly rare. One ancient purple dye used by Roman emperors was made out of the mucous secretions of a Mediterranean snail! Similarly, the royal Aztecs used a dye made out of a related sea snail. In 1856, a lucky chemist accidentally made the first synthetic organic dye, which revolutionized the chemical industry. Using this mauveine, colourfast purple was no longer restricted to royalty and the clergy. In fact, purple became the color of the Women’s Suffrage movement. And later Feminism and Gay Pride too.


	5. Brown, Black, White, Colourless

**Brown**

Brown is the color of soil, dirt, earth. Soil is complex mixture of minerals, decaying organic matter, and liquids, which is the habitat of billions of billions of microbes, simply a profusion of microcosmic ecosystems. A handful of soil can contain thousands of species of microbes each in their own metabolic niche, breaking down organic matter, extracting nutrients from minerals, fixing nitrogen, reproducing, cooperating, and waging micro-scale wars. Soil ranges in texture from dense clay to porous sand, from rich loam to slick silt. Soil stores, absorbs, and purifies water and it forms the vital substrate to support plant growth.

* * *

**Black**

Black is the absence of light. Space is black – though it is vast and full of unaccountably many stars – an observation that has puzzled astronomers for hundreds of years. Well, the universe is only 13.8 billion years old, and light can only travel a finite speed, so there is a limit to the _observable_ universe. In fact, after the Big Bang, atoms and light as we know it didn’t exist for 380,000 years, and the leftover light from these first photons is still around, so weak from the expansion of the universe that it appears as a faint _microwave_ glow.

* * *

**White**

White is the color of snow. Snow is white because the crystalline ice reflects and scatters all the sunlight without absorbing any. Snow is formed when really cold mist finds something to clump upon. Once water turns to ice around the nucleus, snowflake growth depends on the exact temperature and humidity around the flake. This changes as the flake falls, and each flake experiences slightly different conditions, which is why every snowflake is unique. Snowflakes have six arms because of the chemical structure of water; the angles of the weak hydrogen bonds between neighboring water molecules makes them form hexagons.

* * *

**Colourless**

“Objects that are transparent allow light to pass without scattering or absorbing it, thus they appear clear. If the angle of incidence is greater than the critical angle and the refractive index of the object is…”

“Fitz! Are you being pedantic again?”

“No!” He huffed.

“The point of this exercise is prove to Skye that beauty and science are one and the same, not explain Snell’s law of refraction!”

“But Total Internal Reflection…”

“No,” she pronounced.

“What about that dreck wi’ dirt bugs?”

“Soil microbes _are_ beautiful!”

“Orange?”

“You’re the one who said the chemistry of _beta-_ carotine was too biological!”


	6. Fitz' Nightmares

**Friends**

Fitz runs down the hall, panting.

_Where is it? Why has everything changed?_

He turns the corner and recognizes the lecture hall. _Thank God_.

He throws open the door and everyone stares at him. At his lack of trousers. He’s half nekkid.

**And** the test has already started.

Simmons gets up from her seat and hands him her sweater, her favorite rose-embroidered sweater.

He wraps it around his waist and hurries to begin the exam.

“Thanks,” he whispers to Simmons on his way to his seat.

“What are friends for?” she asks rhetorically.

Fitz startles awake then returns to sleep.

* * *

**Enemies**

Fitz runs through the Bus, panting, only to turn the corner into Simmons holding a real gun.

“Stop!” She commands, pointing _**it**_ at him.

“Ye said ye weren’t Hydra!” Fitz bleats.

“I’m a better liar than you’d think. Now, on your knees,” She instructs.

“I’m never gonnae work for ye!” Fitz struggles.

“I thought you were smarter than this, but if you insist,” Simmons pistol-whips him.

His head throbs. His eyes swim.

“Goodbye sweet Fitz,” she sounds mildly regretful.

“Ye dinnae have to do this!” He searches her face.

The hammer falls.

Fitz wakes up, cold with sweat, heart pounding.

* * *

**Lovers**

Fitz stares at Simmons, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh Fitz!” she sighs before leaning and kissing him.

Once on the cheek, then once on the mouth, then once at the hollow of his throat.

She fumbles with his blazer. He fists his hands in her silken blouse, his dexterous hands unable to fathom the delicate task of unbuttoning.

Magically, his blazer and Oxford and her blouse have disappeared.

She runs her hands down his chest, stopping at his trousers’ waistband. She looks at him questioningly; he smiles.

And awakens. He slams his head against his pillow, frustrated and embarrassed.


	7. Simmons' Realities

**Family**

“…I had the anti-serum, the chute, everything. I just… I couldn’t get the straps…

“Fitz, please!”

“on. And you know, maybe I couldn’t have done the whole ‘James Bond in midair' type thing…”

“Just… Ward did an amazing thing, yes. But it wasn’t Ward by my side in that lab searching for a cure. It wasn’t Ward giving me hope when I had none. It was you. _You’re_ the hero.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

_Sweet boy, of **course** you’d save me. Just as I’d do anything to save you. We’re **Family**._

* * *

**Strangers**

“Fitz,” said the boy, the youngest scientist excluding herself.

“Jemma, erm, Simmons,” she replied.

“What do you study?” she asked; it was always a safe icebreaker.

“Engineering, mechanical and aerospace mostly,” he added.

She nodded, “Rocket science! I’m Biochemistry: PhDs in molecular biology and pharmacokinetics.”

“Ah, two?” the young man whistled, “I’ve only the one in aerospace engineerin’ and astrophysics, but I’ve got two Masters…”

Simmons took a sip to hide her smile.

“So, you’re from Yorkshire?” he inquired.

Simmons nodded, “Sheffield. You?”

“Aberdeen.”

“Like Scotty? From The Original Series?” Simmons asked, enthused.

“No, he’s from Linlithgow,” Fitz replied firmly.

* * *

**Teammates**

Fitz dropped to the couch laden with a huge bowl of popcorn.

“Didn’t you _just_ eat dinner?” Jemma prodded.

Fitz shrugged.

“Anyone want to join us? We’re watching The Voyage Home,” Jemma asked the group cleaning up the kitchen from dinner.

Skye and Ward looked skeptical. May had already done her ‘ninja disappearing act.’ Coulson was unreadable.

“It could be a teambuilding exercise?” attempted Jemma.

Coulson’s eyebrow quirked a ‘no’.

“The whale one?” asked Skye.

“Yep,” Fitz replied, pleased.

“Okay,” Skye plopped down between Fitzsimmons and stole a handful of popcorn.

Fitz protested weakly and Jemma just grinned at them.


	8. In vino veritas?

**Parents**

Fitz looked down at the empty shot glasses littering their table in the corner of The Boiler Room, trying to count them. His eyes swam. It didn’t really matter.

Fitz rested his head on the table.

“Oh Fitz…” Simmons murmured, “Will you please tell me what this is all about?”

“My mum…”

Jemma waited.

“She called. The lump is benign…”

Jemma didn’t know anything about Fitz’ mum having a lump, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah,” Fitz burped, “But it got me thinkin’…”

Jemma tried to break the tension, “That’s never a good sign...”

“’bout mortality. ‘bout losin’ my mum.”

* * *

**Children**

Jemma slammed her bottle down, “Do you know what gets me so worked up?”

Fitz knew better than to answer.

“The condescending, male-chauvinistic attitude of Professor Smith.”

“‘You women need to be extra careful around Ethidium bromide. It’s a known teratogen and you don’t want to have a three-headed baby in a couple of years.’ Like we don’t _know_ that it’s a teratogen and we’re all going to end up barefoot and pregnant because that’s the only thing we’re good for!”

Fitz was wise enough to stay silent.

“Maybe some of us will have successful and happy lives without children!”


	9. Circle of Life

**Birth**

“Oh, look at that!”

“Ugh!” Fitz grunted in reply, purposefully looking away from the cage that was attracting all of Simmons’ attention.

“I don’t know why you’re so squeamish; it’s a natural part of life.”

“Havin’ a rat give birth in our lab is _natural_?”

“Here comes the first amniotic sac!” Jemma squealed in excited non-answer.

“I’m not listenin’.”

“This is so thrilling! Our first parturition!”

“I’m leavin’!” Fitz shouted.

“You act as if you won’t be happy to have more rats to test our new dendrotoxin derivatives,” Simmons pointed out, only to be met with an empty room, “Fitz?”

* * *

**Death**

Fitz and Simmons stood side-by-side watching the labored breathing of the pale occupant of the med pod.

“Have you thought about it?” Simmons asked quietly.

“It?”

“Death,” Simmons elaborated.

Vague, half-formed notions about the first and second laws of thermodynamics – irreversibility, conservation of energy, and dynamic steady states – bubbled about in her mind.

“It’s a natural part of life…” Fitz replied in an annoyingly general manner.

Simmons gave him a _look_.

“We saved her. Skye’ll bounce back. You’ll see.”

Simmons hummed in a non-committal manner.

He bridged the gap between them, self-consciously patting her on the shoulder.

She smiled softly.


	10. Orbital Rotation

**Sunrise**

“Hey Simmons…” Fitz cajoled.

“Yeah?” Jemma asked blearily from her overflowing library carrel.

“We’ve been up all night studying for Dr. Hall’s exam.”

“Yeah. I know,” she replied shortly.

“No, we’ve been up _all_ night. Look, look at that bonnie sunrise!”

Jemma looked up and they watched the sky brighten and the rising sun cast a rosy glow upon the low-hanging clouds.

“It's so beautiful…” she murmured appreciatively.

“Aye.”

They stood, watching the awesome interaction of orbital rotation and atmospheric scattering.

Fitz’ watch beeped six o’clock.

“Well…” Fitz said as he turned back to his books, “That was nice.”

“Indeed.”

* * *

**Sunset**

“Fitz?”

“Yeah?”

Fitzsimmons had been sitting on the tailgate of the Bus sipping beer, watching the sunset in silent communion.

“Do you still regret signing up for this adventure?” Simmons asked.

“Nah…” Fitz lied.

They sat in silence a while longer before Fitz added, “Just look at that sunset over the Pyramids of Giza. We’d never have gotten the time to see this stuck in a non-mobile lab at Sci-Ops.”

“It is pretty amazing. Now we can check off number 57 on our bucket list.”

“Yeah, too bad we never got to see a monkey or Machu Picchu in Peru."


	11. Three times Simmons protected Fitz

**Seconds**

The one person he’d always been relieved to see ran into the compartment, “We’ve been made! Oh bloody hell!”

Then she did the unthinkable, grasping the grenade-holding mook firmly, doing what she could to protect Skye and himself from the blast.

“Jemma!!!” Fitz cried as the grenade released a blue cloud. Jemma and the mook were down. Fitz couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t lose her.

He vaguely sensed Skye was rushing forward. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Skye checked her pulse.

It was the longest few seconds of his life.

“She’s okay,” Skye announced.

Oh thank god. He could breathe again.

* * *

**Minutes**

“Fitz. Fitz. Fitz!” Coulson demanded through the comms.

These Agent-types were always running roughshod over them and Fitz would never defend himself. He might be the famous back-from-the-dead Coulson, but it would take Fitz however long it would take him. Added pressure had always been counter-productive - with the possible exception of the night-night gun to save Mike Peterson and even then she had to reframe the pressure as an exam.

“Saying his name repeatedly does not increase productivity!” Jemma defended poor Fitz.

“Okay, go!” Fitz had broken through the laser force field.

“Or maybe it does…” she murmured puzzled.

* * *

**Hours**

Jemma awoke trapped and her joints ached, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest.

She moved about – or at least as much as she could – attracting the attention of Director Fury.

“Fitz?” She needed to know.

“Easy, easy. His heart’s still beating. Just barely. I have a full med team with him. But you have to remain in this chamber, okay?”

It would be hard; the long hours waiting for the nitrogen bubbles in her joints to be expelled.

“His brain was without oxygen for a long time. But you saved him.”

No; but she will.


	12. Times Apart

**Days**

“I just cannot believe you’re going in there. Dark. In hostile territory. Without comms. Lacking any real physical strength...” Jemma fretted.

“I’ll be fine,” Fitz declared, annoyed by Jemma’s last statement, “Jemma, stop. Stop worrying about me. I can do this. Thank you. And don’t you do anything rash while I’m gone… like jump out of an airplane.”

Simmons had the decency to look sheepish, but she reached over to grab his hand. Her touch drove home the idea that they’d be separated for a few days, maybe longer.

“Well, you’ll be careful?”

Their eyes met.

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse.”

* * *

**Weeks**

“Don’t you seem awfully chipper to pick up and leave me on my lonesome,” Fitz grumped.

“Do I?”

“Yes! No wonder. Could it be because the Hub’s lab facilities are much more comprehensive than ours?”

“In case I’d like to run a molecular breakdown of Skye’s blood? Yes. Brilliant deduction, Dr. Watson.”

“I’ve always pictured you as Watson.”

Jemma gave him a quizzical look.

“Either way, if you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna need my help. At some point, one way or another, eventually.” She was going to be gone, for maybe weeks, she’d need him. They needed each other.


	13. The whole damn time

**Months**

“Didn't even pass our field assessments, for God's sake!” Fitz ranted.

“Please, as if I forced you to follow me anywhere!” retorted Jemma.

“You said, and I quote ‘Fitz, it's the most perfect opportunity for us to see the world. We'd be fools to pass this one up!’” Fitz said falsetto.

“I hate it when you use that voice. That's not even how I sound. And you were just afraid of going into the field.” Jemma deflected.

“I'm not afraid...”

“Don't you dare act like these last few months haven't been the highlight of your entire pasty life!” Jemma ranted.

* * *

**Years**

“Pasty? Oh, really? Well, when did you become so sun-kissed?” Fitz deflected and Jemma scoffed.

“Because I'm pretty sure that every minute of every day, you've been stuck in a lab right beside me. At the Academy, Sci-Ops, this plane; you've been right beside me the whole damn time!” Fitz trailed off.

They thought back on the past few years. The long laughs. The exciting projects. The shared tea. The innovations. The Doctor Who marathons. They were _Fitzsimmons_! They’ve been _Fitzsimmons_ for years...

Resolutely Fitz griped, “You have to fix this.”

“I don’t know _how_ Fitz,” Jemma said with regret.


	14. Too much and yet not enough

**Too Much**

“I’ve done the math. That’s why you’re taking it. You’re a better swimmer, anyway.”

“ _No._ ” It was too much for her.

“Jemma.”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving you here. That’s ridiculous. We need a new plan.”

“We’re not discussin’ it, okay? You’re taking it. End of story. I couldn’t live if you didn’t.”

“Well, I feel the same way. There has to be another way.”

“You’re takin’ it.”

“Why? Why would you make me do _this_? You’re my best friend in the world!”

“Yeah, an’ you’re more than that Jemma.”

She couldn’t process what he was saying. It was too much.

* * *

**Not Enough**

There weren’t enough words for him to tell her how he felt, but he tried, “I couldn’t find the courage to tell you. So, please… let me show you.”

Jemma sniffled and engulfed Fitz in a huge hug.

“It’s okay.”

“No. No.”

Jemma covered his cheeks and forehead with kisses.

Fitz leaned into each kiss. It wasn’t enough.

“Jemma. Jemma. Jemma, we have to hurry.”

“No. No.”

She held on tighter.

“Take it, Jemma.”

“No. No.”

“Take it.”

Jemma backed up, cheeks covered in tears. It wasn’t enough, but he had to give her the best gift he could.

“ ** _No!_** ”


	15. A Sense of the past

**Hearing**

_Bzzzzzzzt_

“Your centrifuge is out of balance,” Fitz commented.

“No, it’s fine,” Simmons replied.

Fitz shrugged, not willing to press and hurt their budding friendship.

_BZZZT- **Thunk!**_

“Well damn,” Simmons muttered.

_I told you so_ hovered on the tip of Fitz’ tongue.

Simmons puttered around, attempting to rebalance the centrifuge only to be met with an annoying blinking error light.

Fitz saw her try troubleshooting protocol one: turning it off and turning it back on again. It didn’t work.

“Would you like some help?”

Simmons nodded reluctantly.

Fitz gave the rotor a spin and the error light turned off.

“Wow, thanks!”

* * *

**Touch**

Jemma is in a hurry, she was supposed to teach another agent a technique 20 minutes ago, but someone set off an EMP and her alarm never went off. As she turns the corner, she hits a solid weight and papers go flying.

“I’m terribly sorry Sir,” Simmons blurts as she scrambles to pick up the scattered blueprints.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles and Simmons recognizes the young engineer from the meet-and-greet.

“Sorry Fitz,” she amends.

His keen azure eyes lift from the floor, he’s startled she remembered him.

They both reach for the same blueprint. Their hands touch, they blush.

* * *

**Taste**

"I'm feeling a might peckish. Would you like something too?" Simmons asked rolling out of her book-bestrewn bed. 

"Yeah, sure," Fitz agreed before turning back to his work. He would **_never_** turn down food, it was just one of his life-rules.

Simmons puttered about her mini-fridge for a bit and returned with two innocuous sandwiches.

Upon second thoughts, Fitz was more than a little hungry; he was famished, "Thanks!"

He grabbed a sandwich and took a bite. It was miraculous. Smooth, silky mozzarella, sweet, umami prosciutto, and some tangy zip.

"Oh my God! What is this? It’s amazing!"

Simmons blushed.


	16. A Sense of Now

**Sixth Sense**

“It’s creepy you know…” Skye whispered.

“What?” Ward asked his rookie.

“How in-sync those two always are,” she nodded at the squabbling scientists.

No one (besides them) could understand what they were fighting about, but their body language and gestures were imperfect mirrors.

A half second apart, they broke off the squabble and returned to whatever it was they were doing at the holotable, gestures imperfect mirrors still.

“It’s like they have this sixth sense or something,” Skye continued.

“I suppose if you spend enough time in the vicinity of someone, you pick up their behaviors…”

“Uh huh, sure Robocop.”

* * *

**Smell**

Fitz inhaled deeply, then shouted across the Bus, “Is that what I think it is?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a mind-reader; what do you think it is?” Jemma snarked from the kitchen.

“It smells like your famous cranberry, pumpkin seed, oatmeal cookies!”

“Well then, you are correct Dr. Watson.”

Fitz practically teleported from him bunk, wasting his pleading puppy-eyes on an immovable Simmons.

“No. They’re too hot to eat now, and besides, I’m making them for the whole team.”

Fitz turned his pleading look up to eleven, pulling out the nigh infallible quivering lip.

She was unswayed, “Not now.”

* * *

  **Sight**

Simmons had never – in all of her years of examining iridescent bacteria under a microscope and scanning exciting Western blots – seen anything quite so beautiful as Fitz standing unharmed beside Ward.

She longed to engulf him in a giant hug, but something held her back, instead she said stiffly, “Well done Fitz. So glad you’re alright.”

“Yep. Good to see you too,” he was as awkward as she was. **_Why_** _was this so awkward_?

“Oh, the sandwich? How was it?”

He hesitated too long.

“Too much aioli?” Simmons asked.

“It was delicious,” he replied solemnly, and all was right again.


	17. Possible Shapes of things to come

**Triangle**

Fitz sat on the couch, absent-mindedly running through his PT exercises.

Simmons’ rare bell-like laugh rang through The Playground’s common area. Fitz’ eyes were drawn to her like a magnetized needle to the North Pole.

She and Trip were fixing dinner, some traditional Louisianan dish that involved a _lot_ of chopping.

Trip brushed her arm in a congenial manner before continuing his tall-tale.

Fitz’ stomach clenched. He forced it down. Jemma didn’t see him like he saw her, and he’d just have to be okay with it.

She deserved to be happy. Trip was making her happy. End of story.

* * *

**Square**

Fitz leaned heavily on Simmons’ arm as they made their way across the square. Simmons’ eyes scanned the cobblestones before them with determined ferocity. It was Fitz’ first op since…

It was a milk run, almost literally. There was a tech dealer in Rome who had acquired some Asgardian technology. He didn’t know what he had, and since SHIELD no longer existed, they couldn’t confiscate it, but he was ready to sell. Fitz had to authenticate it, and Simmons wouldn’t let him go without her, _even_ if it would make more sense for May to go instead. They were _Fitzsimmons_.

* * *

**Circle**

Fitz heard mumbled voices, muffled beeps – as if his ears were stuffed with cotton.

A voice grew more distinct. _Her_ voice.

There was a pinch of a blood draw. _Jemma stop!_

The voices grew agitated. He still couldn’t get a sense of what they were saying, but something was happening.

He fought to open his eyes. His eyelids weighed 4 stone. Each. But he managed it.

His vision was blurry, but after a couple of blinks he could see Jemma, Coulson, and that smarmy Triplett. They encircled him like that scene out of Wizard of Oz.

She beamed. At him.


	18. Possible Shapes of things to come – worse

**Shapes**

Fitz sat propped up in his bed, medical equipment beeping around him. Simmons couldn’t go into the sickbay; it looked too much like the med pod.

Fitz had a toddler toy in his lap – one of those brightly colored spheres with shaped-holes for blocks. The therapist said it would help with his motor skills.

Fitz carefully picked up the green square, his once dexterous fingers griping too tightly. He tried pushing it through the square hole; it wouldn’t fit. He grunted, frustrated. After a moment, he turned the square slightly and it fit. He grinned brightly and Simmons’ heart seized.

* * *

**Moon**

The Moon called to him. Not the namby pamby local celestial body that was visible in the night’s sky, but _The Moon_.

Ever since he had awakened, She had called to him, whispering galactic secrets to him, telling him of a place where he’d be respected, beloved, and never alone.

She was worried about him – not The Moon, Jemma – but The Moon’s secrets beckoned. She filled his mind with ideas, blueprints, equations, directions. He scribbled them down in his notebook, and when that was full, he wrote them upon the wall. He was coming. He just needed to get out.

* * *

**Star**

Jemma settled herself in the armchair that had mysteriously replaced the standard-issue bedside chair. May’s only comment was that it was ‘practical’.

Jemma pulled out this week’s issue of Nature; she felt a little bad about requesting a print issue. It was greener to just read it on her StarkPad, and it could be traced back to The Playground, but there was just _something_ about a tangible journal.

She stroked Fitz’ close-cropped curls before beginning to read aloud. Fitz would probably never wake up, but he’d want to know about the latest installment in the Big Bang gravitational wave hoopla.


	19. Reasons Fitz loves Simmons

**Heart**

“Until then, I’ll do everything I can to keep her alive,” she said in the clipped, robotic tone of Simmons pushed past her breaking point.

Jemma excused herself, and after a moment of watching Skye fight for breath in the hyperbaric chamber, Fitz followed.

He found her in the supply cabinet trying to scrub Skye’s blood off her hands with a wee bit of dry batting.

He placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and she turned, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her and she clung to him, crying. She just cared _so_ much.

* * *

**Diamond**

“The drug’s chemical properties are foreign to me, which is starting in it’s own right. So I’m requesting, once again, to send a sample of Skye’s blood to H.Q. for further study.”

“That’s not an option.”

“Why?! I don’t need to explain to you the benefits of this drug. You’ve experienced them firsthand.”

“No. That’s an order.”

“That’s not a good-enough reason! I have a duty to you, sir, as my commanding officer. But I also have a duty as a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist to pursue this, to save lives!” Jemma’s eyes glittered jewel-like with fervor. _That’s_ why he loved her.

* * *

**Club**

Jemma got infected by an alien electrostatic virus, clubbed him over the head with a fire extinguisher, jumped out of the plane to save the team, and then called _him_ her hero. He just did not get that girl.

Fitz squeezed his pillow to his chest. His cheek was all warm and tingly where she kissed it. He didn’t get that girl.

He could not put into words how inordinately grateful he was that Jemma Simmons was still in the world. He didn’t know what he’d do if she weren’t around anymore… He just needed Jemma Simmons in his life.

* * *

**Spade**

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About Coulson?” Jemma asked, no longer worried about bears.

“I don’t know, Jemma. I wanna believe Coulson knows what he’s doing but…” Fitz shrugged.

“Well, at least we still have each other.”

Fitz grinned, “Yeah… good. ‘Cause the last thing I want is for things to change.”

Jemma cocked her head, “Fitz… it’s too late for that.”

Fitz stared at the falling snow. She _was_ right. Change was inevitable. But couldn’t she sugarcoat it a bit? Well, no, that was Jemma, painfully honest and direct. She’d call a spade a spade without hesitation.


	20. Ways Simmons shows she cares

**Breakfast**

“I’m hungry!” Fitz complained. It was maybe half past three am and the cafeteria was long since closed.

“You’re always hungry,” Simmons remarked as she turned from her bench to pull some supplies out of a cupboard.

Fitz shrugged; it was true.

Fitz was startled to see a box of Bisquick and a frying pan instead of the expected Eppendorf tubes or smelly biologicals.

Simmons had stocked this cabinet a few weeks ago, after she noted Fitz’ insatiable stomach and long hours – she was a Girl Guide.

Simmons lit the Bunsen burner and mixed the pancake batter as Fitz watched.

* * *

**Lunch**

_Knock knock knock!_

“Go away, I’m busy!” Fitz called from underneath his large-scale quad-copter prototype.

His door swung in anyways.

“Go away! This is due to Professor Abeysiri in four hours!”

“I know Fitz,” Simmons interrupted, “I brought you a sandwich; you need to keep up your strength.”

Fitz had begun extracting himself as soon as he heard the word ‘sandwich.’

“Is it one of your…”

“… ‘miraculous’ sandwiches? Yes, it is.”

Fitz grabbed the wrapped sandwich from her hands without bothering to wash his own.

Five bites and thirty seconds later, he wiped excess aioli from his lip.

“Delicious.”

* * *

**Dinner**

“I’m sick!” Fitz moaned piteously.

One needn’t be a physician – let alone have two PhDs – to tell _that_ from his red nose, bleary eyes, and paler complexion.

Yet he was still standing in lab.

Simmons shooed him to his room, settled him in bed with some Classic Doctor Who DVDs, and set out on a quest.

One long nap and three episodes later, Simmons returned, bearing a large steaming bowl.

“Now, there is no concrete evidence that chicken noodle soup is any more efficacious than any other hot, salty, nutritious meal, but hey, even the placebo effect helps,” she said.


	21. Fitzsimmons’ Yearly Consumption

**Food**

Eight-five individual bags of crisps: forty-seven classic potato, thirteen Pringles, twelve Cheetos (crunchy), seven Doritos (Cooler Ranch flavored), five original flavor Sun Chips, one Funyuns.

Seventy-two packs of biscuits: Thirty-nine chocolate chips, twenty-three shortbread, nine chocolate-covered shortbread, one oatmeal and raisin (on accident).

Thirty-four silver packs of Pop-tarts: seventeen brown sugar, six S’mores, six strawberry, five cherry.

Thirty bowls of popcorn: twenty-four movie-theater butter, six light butter.

Seventeen candy bars: twelve Bounty, four Mars, one Twix.

Seven bags of pretzels.

Four bags of Hot Tamales.

Three bags of Gummi bears.

One pack of Twinkies.

One pack of mini-donuts (chocolate-covered).

…

* * *

**Drink**

Five hundred thirty-eight cups of “English Breakfast” or simply put, tea.

One hundred seventy-five cups of Earl Grey.

Ninety-three cups of mint.

Forty-two cups of Gunpowder Black.

Thirty-one cups of rosehip.

Twenty-four cups of green tea.

Eleven cups of chamomile.

Five Chai lattes.

One raspberry cheesecake mocha Frappuccino

Countably infinite number of splashes of milk.

Two hundred and fifty-two S.H.I.E.L.D. emblazoned water bottles.

Forty-four glasses of orange juice.

Forty-seven bottles of Brown Ale.

Thirty-five pints of Bitter.

Thirteen glasses of red wine.

Three bottles of cat-piss (an American beer by the proper name of “Natty Boh”).

Two bottles of IPA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those of you who like National Bohemian, I had to pick an American beer for Simmons to not like.


	22. Trial by…

**Fire**

Fitz is hanging about the Bio lab. As per usual. Despite his complaints of the stench of LB and βME.

Jemma doesn’t mind. Typically he works on sketches, or AutoCAD, but today he brought a motherboard and soldering iron into lab.

She directed him to set up in the cell culture flaming area – what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him – except she really should have told him the unlabeled beaker full of clear liquid wasn’t water.

Something – she doesn’t know what – sparked, and the 75% Ethanol combusted. After a minor freak out, Fitz extinguishes the blue flames with his notebook.

* * *

**Earth**

Fitz feels the earth pushing down on him. _How stable was this Peruvian temple anyways? The Incans were excellent engineers, but centuries could easily sap the temple’s structural integrity._

Ever since a childhood incident involving a snow cave and improper calculation of structural load, Fitz had been mildly claustrophobic.

Fitz feels the earth weighing him down, but he can’t leave Simmons alone, in the **field.**

Simmons exclaims that the object of unknown origin was more than 1500 years old – which was impossible, the temple couldn’t be more than 500 – and Fitz leans in to examine it closer, _it looked German?!_

* * *

**Air**

Jemma stares down at the vast blueness interspersed with fluffy white clouds - the homogeneity of the landscape makes height determination quite difficult.

The wind teases at her hair as she looks into the void attempting to build up the courage. _It was just like diving off of the high dive. Right?_

Jemma hears something and turns around.

“Jemma No! Jemma No!” Fitz screams, struggling with the lab doors.

_Goodbye dear Fitz. I know you’ll forgive me, eventually._

The wind tugs at her, and she loses her balance, tumbling off The Bus.

The wind tears at her; she falls, arms windmilling.

* * *

**Spirit(s)**

“Fitz, I think if we recalibrate Sleepy’s inductively coupled plasma…” Simmons jabbers on, her voice unbearably high and squeaky.

“Ugh…” Fitz moans. Fitz’ head pounds unmercifully and his mouth is as dry as a mountain of calcium chloride.

This is the **last** time Fitz is going to play the Battle Shots variant of Battleship with Ward. Who would have known that Ward was a master of strategery?

Simmons spares him a sympathetic glance before leaving the lab briefly. Fitz doesn’t see the glance, but rests his head against the cool surface of the lab bench, rejoicing in the momentary quiet.

* * *

**Water**

The water rushes inwards – like Fitz’ analogy of 100 punches to the stomach, or 4 atmospheres of pressure. Simmons holds onto the respirator, feeling it push a bolus of oxygen into her lungs, against the pressure differential. She grabs ahold of Fitz, and swims through the imploded window.

Simmons swims towards the light, tugging a worryingly un-protesting Fitz along with her. As her buoyancy and strokes pulls them upwards, she fights gravity, decompression of the nitrogen in her blood, dread that she’d just lost her best friend in the world, confusion about his feelings for her – and hers for him.


	23. Love/Hate

**Winter**

Simmons loves the winter. The warm snuggly sweaters, the cute fuzzy mittens, and woolen hats with pompoms.

Fitz hates the winter. The big clunky snow boots, the freezing-wet socks, and woolen hats with pompoms.

She loves watching the snow fall – white, pure, and glistening – whilst warm and cozy inside with a nice cuppa.

He hates watching the snow fall – cold, wet, and heavy – dreading the possibility of a public transportation suspension or a blackout.

She loves making snow angels, snowmen, and snow forts.

He hates trudging through the snow, shoveling off the walk, and scraping ice off of the windshield.

* * *

**Spring**

Simmons loves the spring. The weather starts to warm, birds begin to sing, and the earth begins to grow again.

Fitz hates the spring. It’s always raining and the bloody dawn chorus starts _before_ dawn.

She loves the rain. Falling asleep to the sound of it, the fresh smell of it, splashing about in puddles.

He hates the rain. It’s slick, cars splashing dirty water, and your umbrella goes missing at the _least_ opportune time.

She loves the flowers: crocuses, daffodils, and apple blossoms!

He hates the flowers: spewing pollen into the air with reckless abandon, triggering waves of sneezes.

* * *

**Summer**

Simmons loves the summer. Fresh fruits and veggies straight from the farm, fireflies, and long productive days.

Fitz hates the summer. Drowning in sweat, fighting off the mosquitos, being broiled alive until you’re as red as a cooked lobster – and in as much pain.

She loves the heat. That relaxing feeling deep in your bones from truly marinating in the sun, the simple joys of contrast from a summer breeze or walking into an air-conditioned room.

He hates the heat. This heat and humidity is downright inhumane. Why did people ever leave the temperate Isles for Boston!? Why did he?

* * *

**Fall**

Simmons loves the fall. The cooling weather and getting to pull out the sweaters and flannels again.

Fitz hates the fall. The shorter days and the mercurial weather.

She loves autumn leaves. Their flame-bright colors, the sound they make rustling in the wind, and the child-like joy of stomping on a crunchy one.

He hates autumn leaves. The withered brown majority, their musty-moldy smell, and the naked branches they leave behind.

She loves fall food. Pumpkin spice lattes, hot apple cider, and hard apple cider.

He hates fall food. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin bread – which is **not** bread – and _applesauce_.


	24. Changes

**Passing**

The prognosis after cerebral hypoxia is inversely correlated with the length of unconsciousness. The longer the coma, the higher the risk of brain death, the lower the chances of even a partial recovery. Simmons recited the NINDS stats over and over. She clung to the clinical terms and empirical probabilities.

_He_ wasn’t killing Fitz.

For all intents and purposes, Fitz was already dead. He had awoken from his coma, only to remain into a vegetative state – completely unaware. He’d been in the persistent vegetative state for 13 weeks. He was never going to return to her.

Fitz died down _there_.

* * *

**Commencing**

Fitz stood at the podium and waved into the stands – specifically at the teal dot that was his mother – and then grinned broadly at Simmons. He shook his brand new S.H.I.E.L.D. badge at her.

_They had done it. They were the youngest cadets in their class **and** they had graduated three years early. They were going to set the world on fire. Together they were unstoppable!_

Fitz exited stage left, standing ten feet tall in his new – and never going to be worn again – S.H.I.E.L.D.  uniform.

Fitz sat to watch Simmons graduate. She simply glowed, looking spiffy in her uniform.


	25. SciOps Storms

**Thunder**

A roll of thunder reverberated through their apartment, jolting Fitz awake. It took another two flash-booms for him to realize _why_ he was staring at the celling.

He tried waiting out the storm - to no avail - and rolled out of bed.

He padded into the kitchen to fix himself some peppermint tea and look over some sketches, but mere seconds after the kettle began whistling Jemma emerged from her room – complete with her Val Kilmer bunny slippers.

Fitz promptly poured a second cup and they smiled sleepily.

It was hard settling into a new place – even normal things were disconcerting.

* * *

**Lightning**

Simmons stood out of the way as Fitz scurried about his lab powering down various prototypes. She felt useless. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know which prototypes would be the most sensitive to power-surges, she’d just get in his way.

It was odd – working at SciOps, being the youngest person in a new lab, and most strikingly, working in a different lab away from Fitz. It was just temporary until S.H.I.E.L.D. could make room for a Biochem-Engineering lab. She didn’t know where all the reagents were, and she missed bouncing ideas off of Fitz. It was just temporary...

* * *

**Rain**

Fitz huddled in the entryway of the SciOps Building 35. He didn’t want to go out; it was raining outside – not the gentle, soothing, spitting sprinkles of home, but this nasty torrential downpour – and he’d lost his umbrella _somewhere_.

He _could_ run the three blocks to The T, but then he’d get soaked through – and wet wool is no one’s favorite odor.

Just as he had finished inventorying the contents of his bag – and cataloguing their water-sensitivities – Simmons clattered down the stairs, her Starry Night umbrella in hand.

“Forgot your umbrella,” she stated.

“Yup,” he answered needlessly, “You’re a lifesaver.”

* * *

**Storm**

Jemma glided through the lab triple checking that everything had been turned off, the stock of dry ice was enough – to keep the samples in Ultrafreezer below 190 Kelvin if the power went out – and the hard drives had been backed up on an off-site SHIELD server.

A powerful hurricane was rolling up the coast and she and Fitz weren’t “essential personnel” and thus were being sent home ahead of the storm.

It wasn’t fair! She needed to be _here_ , to help, if anything happened, not stuck in an apartment 12 stops away!

“You ready?” Fitz asked from the doorway.

* * *

**Snow**

Simmons leaned against the window, forehead pressed against the glass. Snow was falling fast and heavy outside and soon their little side street would be enveloped in whiteness.

The snow was pristine and dazzling despite the grey skies above, and as it was Sunday she had nowhere she needed to go. The pantry was stocked and the forecast called for a clear night so there should be no commuting issues to deal with tomorrow. It was perfect.

“Hey,” Fitz uttered behind her.

She turned; he was holding out a warm mug, she grabbed it, sipping gratefully. _Now_ it was perfect.


	26. Better Together

**Broken**

Fitzsimmons sat together on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Center waiting room couch – shoulders and legs pressed together out of silent comfort. It had been hours, hours of helpless waiting. Skye was broken and it was beyond Simmons’ training to fix. Skye was broken and Fitz didn’t stop her, didn’t protect her.

Coulson called Director Fury – three times.

Fitz started the blame-game.

Simmons assured him that it wasn’t his fault, “As if you could stop Skye doing anything she’s set her mind to.”

Ward claimed responsibility, and May cut the blame-game off at the knees. The Team returned to silent, helpless waiting.

* * *

**Fixed**

Fitzsimmons stood side-by-side at the med pod window watching Skye’s vitals. Her ECG was nice and regular and her O2 stats had returned to normal as well. They had saved her.

Together they had identified and located the miracle drug GH-325. Fitz had gone into a hostile facility to retrieve it, and Simmons had kept Skye alive until she was able to use it. Together they had fixed Skye.

Skye still hadn’t woken up, but Simmons was certain that it was simply a natural, restorative sleep. Skye would be right as rain in no time. _Together_ they had fixed her.


	27. Out of the Shadows and into the Light Universes

**Light**

Fitz watched the cascading alphanumerics settle as Skye cracked the code. He knew what it was going to say. Out of the Shadows and into the Light: HYDRA. He was relieved. No more lying. No more hiding. Finally! With Garrett and Ward, they outnumbered the SHIELD agents handily.

Yet Garrett did not heed the message and maintained his silly façade. Fitz reluctantly followed suit. Though Simmons _was_ alone at the Hub. Of course the big reveal would happen when Fitzsimmons were separated. When Fitz wasn’t around to convince Simmons to set aside her foolish honor. She might do something stupid!

* * *

**Dark**

Simmons knew something was up when Fitz dropped his call, but naïve Agent Weaver’s warning about HYDRA and besotted Triplett’s disarmament revealed the true extent of the upheaval. And, additionally, the efficacy of her mask of an overeager, bright-eyed scientist incapable of lying.

When Agent Hand claimed that she was HYDRA and that today was their coming out party, that they could either swear loyalty to HYDRA or meet Fury’s fate, Simmons knew she needed to keep this mask on. Hand wasn’t HYDRA – Jasper had bemoaned that fact several times – this was a test. And Jemma Simmons _excelled_ at exams.

* * *

**Shade**

Simmons looked up from examining Eric Koenig’s body, her back rigid. “He died approximately ten hours ago of asphyxiation; after May left the premises. A thin wire was used to strangle him. His trachea is crushed, partially sliced through, so it was done in a hurry. Based on the angle of the lacerations, the killer was at least 6’ 2” and strong enough to… lift him into the…” Simmons presented in a forced-clinical air, “Ward did this.”

Fitz raged, throwing pots and pans about, slamming himself into the fridge.

“Fitz!” she cried, running to her friend, attempting to calm him.


	28. Unexpected questions

**Who?**

“I have a pizza for a Fitzsimmons?” The pizza delivery guy announced from the study center foyer.

“Who?” Fitz inquired; he was closest.

“Fitzsimmons?” He looked around the cluster of book-bestrewn study-tables. There were no takers.

“Large Mushroom, Onion, and Sausage pizza?” He asked again.

“Oh! That’s us!” Simmons chirped, digging about in her backpack for her wallet. Simmons paid for the pizza and Fitz inhaled a quarter of the pie in one go.

He paused in his chewing at just the right time to hear Dr. Desai joke with Dr. Washington about the apt portmanteau.

Maybe they _were_ Fitzsimmons.

* * *

**Where?**

“Come on Fitz! I said we’d be there!” Simmons wheedled.

Fitz just waved her off absentmindedly, pencil already scrawled over paper.

“Fitz! Exams are over for now, we said we’d meet our classmates in the Boiler Room to celebrate, and I don’t want us to be pegged as the most hopelessly square nerds on campus – at least not more than we already are… Come on!” Jemma grabbed his pencil and his attention, “It’ll only be for a couple of hours!”

“Where?” Fitz asked, resigned.

“The Boiler Room, you ninny!”

Fitz rolled up the rough sketch of his newest life-altering prototype.

* * *

**What?**

Agent Weaver unexpectedly called them into her office, no reason stated.

Simmons was rattled – Fitz could tell by the hole she was worrying in her sweater-sleeve – she hated conflict with authority.

“Fitzsimmons, SciOps needs agents of your caliber, and frankly there’s nothing we can teach you that you couldn’t learn easily there. We’d like you to graduate early,” Agent Weaver beamed with maternal pride.

“What?” Fitz asked, stunned.

“SHIELD is setting up a new SciOps branch in Boston and they need fine agents such as yourselves. You’d have your own lab – after the start-up phase, of course.”

Fitzsimmons were speechless.

* * *

**When?**

“When?” Jemma asked, half-suppressed glee tinting her voice.

Agent Weaver smiled at her exuberance, “I expect you can graduate at the end of this semester. I can set up a Skype session with the lead investigators in both Engineering and Biochemistry to help you decide, but this is a honor.”

Jemma nodded fiercely in agreement not noticing the shock fixed upon Fitz’ visage. He’d just gotten used to The Academy, how things worked, the best fabrication machines and cafeteria meals, now they were moving him?

At least he still had Simmons. At least no one would split them up now.


	29. Rhetorical questions or How Fitzsimmons helped The Avengers

**How?**

Fitz gnawed at his lip deep in thought. The world depended on him finding an alternative to palladium for the core of the arc reactor. That was a worthy goal, and besides, it was awesome to test his mettle against that of his heroes Howard and Tony Stark.

But how…

Howard Stark!

Fitz ran to the S.H.I.E.L.D. library. There. Fitz pulled out a ream of Howard Stark’s workbooks. He marveled at the true level of genius present in these documents. He longed to examine every scrap of paper, every scrawled equation, every blueprint, but he had a job to do.

* * *

**Why?**

“But why…” Jemma mused at her blood sample.

As only a level 3 S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent many of the details about this blood sample were above her clearance, but the red blood cells exhibited an extraordinary level of oxygenation and robustness, not to mention the number, strength and diversity of the white blood cells. Jemma was 87% certain that this individual possessed enhanced healing abilities and 53% certain they had super-strength. Additionally, she was 95% certain that the individual had been exposed to the Spanish Flu of 1918 as a child. All the evidence pointed to said individual being _Captain America._

* * *

**If**

Jemma studied the Extremis documents closely. They claimed that Extremis was both a virus and a bio-electronic package carried by carbon nanotubes and somehow hijacked the brain’s ‘repair center’. Which was a load of bullocks. Clearly Extremis _did_ enhance a subject’s agility, strength, healing abilities, and most interestingly exothermic manipulation, but it could not both be a virus and nanotechnology. If only she could get her hands on a sample and determine the origin of the infectious agent… If only she could determine how to stabilize the exothermic bomb-like side-effects…

Jemma’s fingers itched at the restrictions placed on the samples.

* * *

**And**

“It’s compact, not takin’ up much room and easy to keep ‘round. It has this two-hand initiation sequence so it won’t turn on in your bag – no butt-cutting as it were. The battery lasts for 30 years unused or for 30 minutes of cutting time – more than enough to get you out of anythin’. _And_ it looks like a wee lightsaber!” Fitz proudly displayed his new prototype.

Jemma grinned at Fitz’ enthusiasm, “What are we calling it?”

“Mouse-Hole,” Fitz said miming wiggling through a small hole.

Jemma didn’t argue, glad he wasn’t submitting the prototype under the name ‘Wee lightsaber’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this drabble challenge is almost at an end. If anyone wants to propose some one word prompts for the last two Writer's Choice drabbles, that would be great.


	30. Indivisible Fitzsimmons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stolen from my earlier drabbles [Facets of a Family](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1598537)

**He**

He was her best friend, her sounding board, her left brain/right hand. His engineering tech mixed with her biochemical goop was a perfect amalgam. She didn’t know if she could have survived the trials and tests of the Academy let alone The Bus without him. He was a sandwich-sharer when she was hungry but not too hungry, a tea-maker when she wanted tea (which was always), and her champion when she needed one (which was rarely). He was there when she needed him, and she him. They’d been called Fitzsimmons in Sci-Tech, and it was true. They were one, indivisible.

* * *

**She**

  * She was his best friend, his sounding board, his right brain and right hand. They’d been called Fitzsimmons in Sci-Tech, and it was true. They were one, inseparable.
  * She was the biochemical application of his engineering tech.
  * She was so smart, so passionate. She loved learning more than life itself – and learning about life most of all – but also really loved Harry Potter, Dr. Who, and Natural History Museums.
  * She was the penultimate sandwich-maker (the ultimate sandwich-maker being Arthur Dent, of course), an excuse to make tea at any point day or night, and his proponent whenever he needed one.




	31. "Love seeketh not itself to please,/Nor for itself hath any care,”

**Choices**

“As for you, Agent Fitz, you'd hold a very high rank on our Tech Division if you volunteer. If not, you'd have no rank and a lot of pain. Of course, either way, your services will be required,” the slimy Agent Garrett threatened.

Well given the choice between those delightful options, Fitz knew exactly how to answer, suppressing his concern for Jemma to the back of his mind despite the tears escaping of their own volition.

Bravely, for Jemma, he replied, “You're gonna suffer for what you've done. And I... I plan on being a very big part of that.”

* * *

**Life**

“I'm here to offer you a choice, and a simple one at that. Either swear unwavering loyalty to Hydra right now for all time, or share Fury's fate. I won't wait long,” Agent Hand ‘offered’.

Jemma shared a glance with Agent Triplett attempting to communicate her desire to fight to the bitter end – for Fitz.

Trip nodded slightly in agreement before disarming and punching out a goon. Jemma tossed him his knife, “Cross us off… and one of you goes, too.”

“Right answer,” Agent Hand said.

Simmons sighed, relieved about passing this test. She’ll get to see Fitz again. Hopefully.


	32. Gravity and Evolution

**Work**

“No, no, no! That will **not** work!” Simmons exclaimed in annoyance.

Fitz had come up with a great idea for outfitting tiny semi-autonomous drones to locate missing individuals – particularly individuals trapped under rubble or what-not (Simmons’ addition, likely stemming from sharing her fourteenth birthday with the infamous terrorist attacks). However, Fitz had ignored the physical dimensions of Simmons’ GC-MS system before building the drone prototypes.

“I cannot shrink the GC-MS system any smaller without losing spectral resolution and thus targeting specificity!” Simmons shouted.

Fitz almost looked stunned. As if she had never raised her voice to him before. Had she?

* * *

**School**

Jemma giggled as Fitzsimmons left their first Chemical Kinetics lecture.

Fitzsimmons had worked together almost exclusively since their first term, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to take an academic class together since they had very different disciplines.

Jemma was well aware of Fitz’ brilliant mind and well-hidden but caustic wit, but lectures took on another layer of interest when shared with Fitz and his ‘unappreciated’ genius and snarky whispered remarks directed at classmates, Professor Hall, and himself in near equal measures.

Jemma was certain that this class would become her favorite out of all the classes at the Academy.

* * *

**Home**

It had been a trying day: helping Skye, Agent Coulson, and Agent Ward infiltrate Dr. Quinn’s mansion to rescue Dr. Hall, getting yelled at by Agent Coulson, and then finding out kind, old Professor Hall was willing to destroy a whole island.

A trying day to say the least. Jemma smiled at a snack-laden Fitz as they settled in to catch up on the adventures of the Eleventh Doctor and Clara.

Surprisingly, Skye joined them, and even Agent Coulson grinned at them as he passed by on his way to the cargo hold. Jemma’s tight back eased; they were home.


	33. Gifts and Parties

**Birthday**

Jemma clutched at her wrapped gift, hoping it wasn’t too forward. She’d only known Fitz a few months and it might be a bit presumptuous of her to give him a birthday gift. He hadn’t even told anyone about his upcoming birthday, but it _was_ easy to access in the SHIELD files.

Jemma chided herself for her worry. It was just a simple gift.

Fitz answered her knock quickly and smiled politely at the monkey-paper-wrapped box in her hands.

Simmons gestured for him to open the gift, and was rewarded with an exuberant hug. He must like the monkey watch.

* * *

**Christmas**

Fitz had struggled for weeks trying to think up a proper Christmas gift for Simmons – much to his Mum’s ill-concealed and misplaced glee.

Eventually – after much research and thought – he got her a scarf, hoping to covey to her how much she meant to him as his first _best_ friend without being overly mushy. The scarf itself was light and soft – perfect for the temperate Academy winters – and a lovely teal color that his mother claimed would go wonderfully with many of her jumpers.

Now that the gift was in his hands, Fitz didn’t know what to do with it.

* * *

**New Year**

The Academy had a rather Americanized set of New Years traditions – not that Fitzsimmons really minded. Fitz would have been stunned at any first-footing, but gathering in The Boiler Room and counting down from 10 while watching Dick Clark seemed a bit staid.

Simmons didn’t appear to think so, her cheeks were red and her eyes glittered with excitement – or the champagne.

The Boiler Room was crowded to the gills and it just got to be too loud.

Fitz gestured that he was going to leave, and Simmons followed him out, surprising him again with a chaste kiss on cheek.

* * *

**Thanksgiving**

Jemma surveyed their apartment with a critical eye. Their table was set and various traditional condiments arrayed – as dictated by thorough research online. The turkey was in the oven along with traditional sides of ‘stuffing’ and sweet potatoes. A store-bought apple pie with whipping cream sat waiting in the wings.

It looked like Fitzsimmons were ready for their first Thanksgiving in Boston.

The doorbell rang and Fitz ran to it, welcoming their friends and colleagues.

Their colleagues bore more traditional sides and at the end of the night Jemma declared the event a complete success. Fitz just laughed at her.


	34. Independence, Dependence and Equivalence

**Independence**

_Don’t you seem awfully chipper to pick up and leave me on my lonesome?_

Jemma thought back with regret. She didn’t know what she’d do if this was the last conversation they’d have in person. If the Academy was under siege, and Hydra was everywhere, would Fitz and the team be safe? They’d have to be safe. They had The Bus – which could be remotely controlled – and each other – and anyone could be a Hydra agent…

Simmons mentally slapped herself and focused on her own situation. It was no use worrying about Fitz now; there was nothing she could do.

* * *

**Dependence**

_I couldn’t live if you didn’t… Well, I feel the same way…_

Of course the universe was making her eat her words. Prove to her that her heart would continue to beat and her lungs continue to inflate despite his absence. Despite the gaping, throbbing hole left in her chest by his condition, by not knowing how to fix this, by not knowing if she _could_ fix this without Fitz beside her.

She’d known Fitz was her best friend in the world, but now she knew he was so much more. If only he’d wake so she could tell him.

* * *

**Equivalence**

_You've been right beside me the whole damn time!_

The EKG beat steadily telling all and sundry that Fitz’ heart still beat. Not that that did anyone any good.

Simmons shook her head. Pessimism had no place in a sickroom. Fitz was going to get better. She squeezed his hand. It squeezed back.

Simmons heart lurched. But no, it could be just decorticate posturing. No improvement at all.

Then Fitz’ eyes opened – only a 2 on the Glasgow Coma Scale – nothing to get worked up about, Simmons told herself.

“Jemma?” Fitz rasped; his voice was so beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here they are. 100 100 word drabbles. I hope you've enjoyed them. Leave me comment if you have, or have some constructive criticism.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt list:  
> 001\. Beginnings. 002. Middles. 003. Ends.  
> 004\. Insides. 005. Outsides.  
> 011\. Red. 012. Orange. 013. Yellow. 014. Green. 015. Blue. 016. Purple.  
> 017\. Brown. 018. Black. 019. White. 020. Colourless.  
> 021\. Friends. 022. Enemies. 023. Lovers. 024. Family. 025. Strangers. 026.Teammates.  
> 027\. Parents. 028. Children.  
> 029\. Birth. 030. Death.  
> 031\. Sunrise. 032. Sunset.  
> 096\. Writer's Choice - Seconds 097. Writer's Choice - Minutes 006. Hours.  
> 007\. Days. 008. Weeks. 009. Months. 010. Years.  
> 033\. Too Much. 034. Not Enough.  
> 035\. Sixth Sense. 036. Smell. 037. Hearing. 038. Touch. 039. Taste. 040. Sight.  
> 041\. Shapes. 042. Triangle. 043. Square. 044. Circle. 045. Moon. 046. Star.  
> 047\. Heart. 048. Diamond. 049. Club. 050. Spade.  
> 056\. Breakfast. 057. Lunch. 058. Dinner.  
> 059\. Food. 060. Drink.  
> 051\. Water. 052. Fire. 053. Earth. 054. Air. 055. Spirit.  
> 061\. Winter. 062. Spring. 063. Summer. 064. Fall.  
> 065\. Passing. 098. Writer's Choice - Commencing  
> 066\. Rain. 067. Snow. 068. Lightning. 069. Thunder. 070. Storm.  
> 071\. Broken. 072. Fixed.  
> 073\. Light. 074. Dark. 075. Shade.  
> 076\. Who? 077. What? 078. Where? 079. When?  
> 080\. Why? 081. How? 082. If. 083. And.  
> 084\. He. 085. She.  
> 086\. Choices. 087. Life.  
> 088\. School. 089. Work. 90. Home.  
> 091\. Birthday. 092. Christmas. 093. Thanksgiving. 095. New Year.  
> 094\. Independence. 099. Writer's Choice - Dependence 100. Writer's Choice - Equivalence


End file.
